I hate the way my mind runs wild, and I can't come to terms with her saying she was only drunkenly rambling. I'm well aware we say weird shit when we're intoxicated, but usually, there's some kind of truth to it, and if even a shred of what she said was true, how can I let that go?
It doesn't help that my bed still smells of her, and every time I toss and turn, I'm bathed in her scent and reminded of how fucking badly I miss her.
I'm trying not to come on too strong but it's hard when my every single thought revolves around her.
I glance at my phone and check the date and time to make sure I haven't made a mistake. Thursday at noon, Bram's Diner.
I'm a little early, but punctuality never hurt anyone.
I slip into the corner booth and wait for Miller to arrive, ordering us both a cup of coffee while I wait.
June sets two mugs on the table and fills both of them. "You're going to leave me a good tip, right?" She winks at me even though we both know she isn't going to let me pay.
I guess that's a perk of being her driver—free coffee and the occasional blueberry old-fashioned donut.
The door to the diner chimes, and when I look up, Miller walks in and glances around.
I wave him over, and he slides into the booth across from me. "What's up, man?"
It's now that I realize this is the worst place I could have asked him to meet me since June is literally buzzing about doing her job and no doubt spying on us every chance she gets.
I scoot farther into the corner of the booth. "Uh, do you think you could come over here?"
Miller narrows his eyes, and for a second, I wonder if he's going to shoot me for asking him something so fucking strange. "Dude, I don't know what you've heard, but I'm not gay. You're an attractive guy and all but I'm into chicks."
I shake my head and sigh. "That's not why I'm asking." I pat the seat. "Just trust me, please?"
Miller sighs and slips out of his side to join me on mine. He reaches for the mug of coffee and takes a cautious sip. "What is it, Alec?"
"It's about Cora," I say as low as possible without drawing anyone's unwanted attention.
Miller blinks stiffly and turns toward me. "Tell me everything."
I fidget with my own mug and pull it toward me. "So like, I might be totally overreacting."
"Let me be the judge of that." Miller taps his fingers on the table impatiently.
"Okay so, the other night, when we hung out..."I note the way his fingers ball into a fist and wonder how much of this story I actually need to tell him.
"Go on," he says, his tone even despite his fist.
"She was a little drunk and?—"
"If you're the reason her face is bruised, I will fucking slit your throat with that butter knife."
"Wait, what? Her face is bruised? When didyousee her?" I try to keep my voice low but it's hard when we're talking about someone as important as Cora.
"Monday," he tells me. "You swear it wasn't you?"
I shake my head. "I saw her Sunday, and her face was fine. I would have noticed if it was bruised."
"That means it had to have happened sometime between when she left you Sunday and when I saw her Monday after work." Miller seems to get lost in his thoughts for a long moment. "Now that I think about it, she seemed upset when I talked to her Sunday, but she said it was allergies." Miller pauses and looks at me. "If this isn't about the bruise, then what is it?"
"Well, I've been worried about her."
"Why?"
"The other night, when she was fucked up...she said some stuff I can't make sense of."
